


Calm Before The Storm

by bluejay_unit



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Humor, Impending Family Chaos, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejay_unit/pseuds/bluejay_unit
Summary: A moment before David and Patrick's first thanksgiving with both of their families in their new house.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	Calm Before The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a little bit of the holidays for everyone that can't get together IRL. I hope everyone's staying safe and making the best of it!

David flutters nervously around the dining room, straightening napkins and brushing dust off the spotless tablecloth. He eyes the centerpiece critically, hands plucking uselessly at the one leaf that refuses to lie symmetrically.

“Are you _sure_ we shouldn’t have gotten place cards?” David calls out to Patrick, who is doing something, supposedly important, in the kitchen.

“That’s not a thing, nobody actually does that!” Patrick calls back. There’s a dull metal clang, and then the sound of running water.

“But what if it _should be_ a thing?” David calls back, louder over the water.

The tap shuts off, and Patrick appears in the doorway, drying his hands with a kitchen towel. “It’s not a thing.”

“Are you sure the turkey’s done?” David asks, lining each place setting up to the edge of the table.

“Yes, because it was already done two hours ago the first time you asked.”

“Sorry,” David mutters, wincing.

“Oh no, I was impressed you held out that long before asking,” Patrick answers genuinely.

David doesn’t answer, just bites his lip and keeps lining up the silverware.

“What’s got you so nervous about this one, anyway?” Patrick asks, stepping into the dining room. “They’ve all already met.”

“I know,” David says, still straightening a fork. “But this will be _all_ of them. All together. In our house.”

Patrick just tilts his head and his eyes go soft, so clearly he’s not getting the gravity of the situation. “What’s so bad about that?”

David sighs and releases the fork. “All the _Brewers_ ,” he says, gesturing along one side of the table, “Charming, wholesome people who produced a… a baby cherub so polite he once insisted on bringing all his stuffed animals to school at the same time because he ‘didn’t want any of them to feel left out.’”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “And the _Roses_ ,” David continues, gesturing down the other side of the table, “The same family who once caused an international incident by hiring a team to try to _dredge the Mediterranean_ after Alexis dropped her phone off the side of a super-yacht!”

Patrick makes a _yikes_ face and nods.

“You’re not supposed to agree with me!” David bursts out, with much hand-waving.

“What can I say? Your point about the super-yacht was so compelling,” Patrick says lightly, with a settling touch on David’s shoulder. “I’m sure that exact scenario will happen again tonight.”

David sighs and tilts his face back towards the ceiling. “I hate you.”

“Do you? Because marrying me was a real strange choice then, I gotta say.” He can _hear_ the smile in Patrick’s voice as he rests his chin on David’s shoulder.

David looks back down at him, and lets his own smile finally creep up on him. “Wouldn’t be the first time my choices weren’t based in logic.”

Patrick holds his face with one hand, and pulls him in for a short and sweet kiss. “It’s going to go great,” he whispers, not going far. He gives him a peck on the cheek. “Our families already get along.” Another kiss, and he pulls back. “And if they don’t, we have plenty of wine from the store!”  
David raises his eyebrows and nods, conceding this point.

Patrick turns them to face the table, arm around David’s back. “And look what you’ve made already,” he says. “It’s beautiful.”

And for a moment, David can see it. Not how he sees it, with the wrong type of wine glasses, and the colors a bit off, and the whole thing not quite matching his mood board. He sees, he supposes, what Patrick sees. Not the catalog-vision that didn’t quite come together, but what _did_ come together: a warm, inviting, appropriately-autumnal space where all the people they love will soon be gathered together. Although he _does_ want to put out the silverware for the appetizers, and the cheese isn’t out of the fridge yet, and maybe the glasses should actually go on the _other_ side of the plates…

Patrick snatches his hand mid-air as it sneaks towards the table to fix things. He pulls his hand towards them, lacing their fingers together. “It’s going to be a great night,” he says softly.

David takes a deep breath, surveying the scene and leaning into his husband. “Okay,” David says finally.

Patrick smiles, squeezes his hand, and kisses him once more.

Then the doorbell rings, and David’s stomach drops.

“Oh god,” David says.


End file.
